


Wilting

by PumpkinSpiceHimbo



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Ferdinand von Aegir & Lorenz Hellman Gloucester Friendship, Hanahaki Disease, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Other Ships Not Mentioned in Tags, Tags Contain Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-15 16:42:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29067492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PumpkinSpiceHimbo/pseuds/PumpkinSpiceHimbo
Summary: “Do you think it cruel to not be loved in return?”“How could it be anything but! Such pure, untempered devotion rewarded with such callous disregard, it is almost unthinkably cruel!”“Love is not something that can be forced or earned, but is something that… blooms. It is an apt metaphor from the Goddess. A flower can find purchase in cracks between stone and mortar, and it can wither in a carefully tended bed, even from the most skilled gardener. It can be aided, but not forced.”_______________Ferdinand finds himself with flowers in his throat and is determined to correct the issue by sheer willpower alone. He has diverted the feeling before, so surely he can do it again... but the flowers begin to wilt or come up dry and broken. What does that mean? And can it be cured?
Relationships: Ferdinand von Aegir & Lorenz Hellman Gloucester





	Wilting

“Have you ever bloomed, Lorenz?”

Ferdinand had always prided himself on being a fine conversationalist. He knew that not every pause needed to be filled, not every prompt immediately responded to, and yet somehow he could feel a lump in his throat as he brought his cup to his lips, allowing his companion ample time to speak. It took Lorenz longer than he appreciated, which was a mark against his otherwise impeccable conversation skill, and the way his teacup rattled slightly as he lowered it to his saucer must be noted as well.

“No,” he finally replied, releasing the cup as to not continue rattling it. He folded his hands pleasantly in his lap, forcing a smile that failed to hide his horror and intrigue. Ferdinand pulled a larger mouthful of tea than would be polite, but he needed to wash the lump away if he was to elaborate. Lorenz waited, trying ever harder to disguise his emotions.

“Never?” Ferdinand asked, cocking his head slightly in confusion. He extended his empty cup and Lorenz rose to immediate attention, taking up the pot to pour for him. “Surely one of your pursuits resulted in a single bud?”

“No,” Lorenz said again, and he offered a sheepish smile. “My pursuits have exclusively been experimental, and based entirely off of suitability. It is not the noble’s plight to deal with matters of love, but of propriety.”

“I agree,” Ferdinand confirmed, his smile much more believable.

Lorenz could scarcely look away from him, and had not, truthfully, except to aim his pour. With the teapot once more settled on its lace doily, he was left staring again.

“And you?”

“Just once,” Ferdinand lied.

“It would be improper for me to ask,” Lorenz trailed off, though he obviously wished to do so. Ferdinand set down his cup, gloved pinkie guiding it to the saucer seamlessly, soundlessly, as he thought over Lorenz’ request.

“When I was a boy,” he offered simply, and Lorenz all but squirmed in his chair in the silence.

“And you have survived!” Lorenz finally announced, as if it were not simply to replace the awkward silence with an equally awkward reply.

“It would seem so!” Ferdinand said with a laugh, his gaze moving to the tea sandwiches on the tiered tray, eyeing the cucumber and soft cheese, comparing it to the smoked lox. He let Lorenz sit with the silence again as he made his choice, carefully planning his words. He also chose one of each sandwich, deciding it best to leave more for his guest, in case he only liked one over the other. He arranged them on his plate with a single spiced cookie, then met Lorenz’ eager eyes again.

“I was a boy,” he repeated, his tone softening somewhat. “I had fallen quite ill, and I was stubbornly pretending that I was well. I thought it was weak to lay in bed, so I tried to go about my day as normal. Unfortunately, I did not make it very far, and when I awoke, I was in my bed regardless. Someone had brought me there and cared for me, and in my feverish state, I found my heart swelling in gratitude.”

“Gratitude does not bloom,” Lorenz corrected, his brows furrowed.

“It does not,” Ferdinand agreed, taking a moment to bite into the lox. He chewed it slowly, using the time to choose his words. Lorenz tried his cup again, sipping it to fill the space, a bit better at keeping it quiet when he replaced it on his saucer.

“That is why I no longer bloom,” he explained, setting the other bite of the small sandwich back on his plate. “The nurse told me it was not uncommon for someone to produce a few buds for a caregiver. She told me that so long as I recognized it for what it was, the buds would cease and I would be cured.”

“And that is what happened, clearly,” Lorenz said, wanting to be relieved.

“Clearly,” Ferdinand reassured, taking another sip of his tea. “The bloom comes from unrequited love, you see. If the love you feel does not need to be requited, or is not love at all, you need not worry about it.”

“I see,” Lorenz said with a nod, the relief clear on his face. “I thought it was a more… all-consuming ailment, one that surely ended in tragedy or triumph and nothing in between.”

“Not in my experience,” Ferdinand boasted. “Love is fickle and often misunderstood, and so is the bloom.”

“I thought it best to come to understand the feeling,” Lorenz admitted. “I have courted it through poetry. Poems of longing and torment, enough to make the heart ache. I’ve made myself cry for the love I’ve never known, but never bloomed.”

“Because you have never loved, simply practiced love.”

“I suppose so.”

The silence between them was more comfortable now, each thinking quietly. Ferdinand went back to his lox and tea in turn, watching Lorenz as he stared into his cup. He seemed sad, though Ferdinand wasn’t entirely sure why. Was it that he had never loved? Was it that love was so fickle? Only Lorenz could say, and he seemed unlikely to do so.

“I am sorry to have brought up such a thing,” Ferdinand said at last. Lorenz blinked away his thoughts, putting his practiced smile back into place.

“Oh no, forgive me for my moment of melancholy,” he insisted, eyeing Ferdinand’s cup to see if it needed another filling to bolster his apology. “I admit, I am a romantic at heart, and while it may perhaps be a tragedy, I think it a fitting end for such a hopeless romantic. A beautiful, exquisitely painful death, for the selflessness of its victim, and the cruelty of the world.”

“Do you think it cruel to not be loved in return?”

“How could it be anything but! Such pure, untempered devotion rewarded with such callous disregard, it is almost unthinkably cruel!”

It was Ferdinand’s turn to be quiet and wistful, his lips pressing together in thought. Lorenz found himself sheepish once more, the swell of romantic self-importance receding and leaving him stranded.

“I cannot agree,” Ferdinand finally answered, his golden eyes finally moving back to meet Lorenz. “Love is not something that can be forced or earned, but is something that… blooms. It is an apt metaphor from the Goddess. A flower can find purchase in cracks between stone and mortar, and it can wither in a carefully tended bed, even from the most skilled gardener. It can be aided, but not forced.”

It wasn’t his intent, but Lorenz was ashamed all the same, looking as if he’d been slapped by a woman he had decided to court. His cheeks were red and his long frame collapse on itself, his perfect posture ruined for a few swollen seconds.

“I did not mean to scold,” Ferdinand added, turning his attention to his untouched cookie and delicately plucking it from the plate. He let it sink into the tea and watched it absorb the moisture, allowing Lorenz the dignity to compose himself unsupervised.

“No, of course not,” Lorenz said, clearing his throat as he adjusted his uniform. He fussed with his hair, the way the rose sat in his lapel, lingering for a long moment as the soft petals brushed his skin, and set himself properly in his chair once more. “I am merely uninitiated, as you said, and I spoke out of turn.”

“Not at all!” Ferdinand insisted, bringing the soggy sweet to his lips. “We speak as equals, of course!”

“You flatter me,” Lorenz purred, placing a hand to his chest to show his sincerity. “I will always be aware of your position, however, and mine.”

“For now!” Ferdinand announced, nearly losing the unstable end of his cookie as he gestured. “And once you have ascended to your proper place within the Alliance, we will truly be equals, and I will suffer no more humbling and deference from you!”

“We shall see,” Lorenz said coyly, once more in his element, comfortable, unruffled, hiding his feline smile behind the edge of his cup.

Finally, the cookie disappeared into Ferdinand’s mouth, just as the huge clocktower began to echo with the hourly chimes.

“Oh, how careless of me,” Lorenz said, setting down his empty cup. “I’m afraid I am going to be late for my lesson if I don’t leave now.”

“Mmn!” Ferdinand replied, shielding his mouth with the back of his free hand, nodding his permission as he hastily chewed away his bite.

“I always manage to lose myself when we have tea,” Lorenz continued, standing and collecting his things, surveying the table to ensure nothing was forgotten. Satisfied, he looked up at his companion with his most charming smile. “I should hope to lose myself again soon.”

“Of course!” Ferdinand replied around his hand, running his tongue along lips and teeth before he lowered it. “As always, you prove a sorely missed companion and I shall always look forward to sharing some good leaves.”

“And gossip,” Lorenz added cheekily, eager to see Ferdinand’s conspiratory cackle. “You are far too gracious a host, Ferdinand. Until next we meet.”

He bowed exaggeratedly, low and sweeping, his books pinned behind him as to not ruin the motion or lines. Ferdinand replied in kind from his chair, a seated half-bow and a beaming smile more than enough for his dear friend.

With that, Lorenz was off, striding confidently until he thought he was out of eyesight, then hurrying with much less refinement toward his class. He was quite foolish beneath his cool façade, but it was that fool that Ferdinand had grown quite fond of. He was human, someone Ferdinand could relate to in both mask and truth, and it was hard to find people he could be so natural with. He needed guidance, perhaps some humility, but he was a fine draft of a man, assuredly to become a masterpiece.

The tea was growing cold and the sun casting long shadows on the courtyard. There was no rush for Ferdinand, he had long since finished his classes for the day and he was free until supper to do as he pleased. He would usually use this time for extra studies, or drills, perhaps weapon and armour maintenance or time at the stables, but he lingered to-day, thoughts drifting.

Lorenz was someone he could be truthful with, wasn’t he?

Then why did he feel so compelled to lie?

Ferdinand tied the leftover sandwiches into a napkin, uncultured an act though it was, and decided to drop them off on Lorenz’ desk. He’d not touched a single one of them, and it was entirely due to Ferdinand’s choice in conversation. It was a small apology, perhaps with a handwritten note requesting his time later in the week, and another, more honest conversation to be had then.

The thought made his throat tighten, and he couldn’t ignore the tickle of the vine resting there.


End file.
